I thought sexism would be dead by now
"When we get behind closed doors it makes me glad that I'm a man"|
-Charlie Rich.
Genderbent, Ungendered?
For some reason that song has always given me an advanced case of the creeps.
Aside from giving up bus seats and opening doors for women when I was a kid I don't think I've ever had a sexist thought. I grew up judging people almost solely on their intelligence. More properly, their intellectuality.
Sort of. I became disillusioned with intellectual pursuits about the time I left home. They didn't seem to make people more clear-thinking. Didn't imbue them with wisdom or live happier lives (vide Bertrand Russell). Indeed much philosophy and psychology seemed to be aimed at creating schematic pictures of life that bore little resemblance to it. One subspecies of intelligentsia seemed have too much second-hand experience, blocking rather than enriching their interaction with the rest of the world. Another used verbal dexterity and allusion to win arguments. I've grown up and appreciate intellectual artifacts as works of art, not fault them for being maps of reality. And to not deny the value of the component insights because of the flaws in the larger structure.
What I came to admire was clarity or perhaps minimal illusion. I was a heartless little prick. I'd often dismiss kind, caring people as 'stupid.' But I've already written here a couple of times about my recovery the emotional afflictions of bright kids in small cities.
Getting away from the digression, gender wasn't an attribute that I wasn't knowingly aware of. Having also been blind to sexuality itself I know how little to trust my ideas about my earlier life.
There was no more sexism in me than there was racism or anti-Semitism.
On coming out I thought of myself as ungendered. A guy once told me that I had feminine consciousness. His fancy way of saying that I was polite because I left him some cigarettes when he couldn't afford to buy them himself. That did make me identify as a feminist.
Thinking about it recently I've come to realize my personal sense of maleness is stronger than I thought. Admitted? I'd as soon identify with a toad as my father.
But on discovering guys I was instantly enamored of "Nancy-boys." And they like me. But it wasn't because I felt 'ungendered.' It was because I'm tall, hairy-chested, hetero-conventional in persona and maybe because I dressed like a thug.
And I ate it up. I quickly learned to leave a top shirt-button or two unbuttoned. Hold the boys in my lap (which will always be on my short list of life's greatest pleasures). And I liked to be on top.
When I met a fellow that I was attracted to my voice would always deepen. Not by strategy, it was involuntary.
(Intermission.) Not all femme gay men want to be on bottom. (End Intermission.)
I was cultivating masculinity.
I like to be the nurturer, the one who takes care of the other. I got that from my mother. I got much of who I am from her. But I don't feel feminine or that their is a female part of me. My desire to help and provide feels like a desire to be strong. That sadly wasn't part of momma. Even more sadly, daddy.
Not that I mind any of this. No guilt. People reading journals often see that where it isn't. You are just reading an example of psychic onanism.
Gender color can be lots of fun. Some gay women seem to keen on it. Most of the gay men who do often need to see a shrink or transplanted to Titan. Hets who follow John Gray make me want to vomit.
. . . I stopped to chat with Charles part way through this and have lost my train of thought . . .
I think I'll assume that I'll finish this properly one day on my web site.
Haven't yet.